


Dead Wake

by Farasha



Series: Any Port in a Storm [5]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Deepthroating, Dubious Consent, M/M, Rough Sex, Sex at Knifepoint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:10:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4008835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farasha/pseuds/Farasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Dead wake: The trail of a fading disturbance in the water</i>
</p><p>Vane finds the saboteur in the hold - Silver pulls out all his tricks to ensure he lives through the encounter. At the same time, unwelcome news from shore hangs heavily on his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Wake

**Author's Note:**

> Please pay attention to the warnings. This is more dub-con than consensual - Silver feels like he's under threat of bodily harm, so at the very least it's coercion.

Luck, and the belief in it, was a funny thing. Silver tried not to place much importance in it, preferring to rely on his ability to adapt, which he'd always considered his greatest weapon. When luck turned his way, he was thankful for it, and when it turned sour he didn't waste time bemoaning fate.

Which was why he didn't wish Flint and Miranda luck when they disembarked for Charleston, not even silently. He wasn't a praying man, either, and so he only tried not to dread the worst in the long hours after the governor's men disappeared on shore with the captain walking between them. Flint had gone quiet and subdued the closer they came to Charleston, which had the unlikely effect of making Silver miss his normal manner of quiet and tetchy. Silver stayed as close as he was allowed, which was more than it had been before their encounter on the gun deck. Flint noticed him there; Silver felt the captain's eyes on him whenever he was in sight, like Flint couldn't stop watching him.

Most people would consider that lucky, he supposed, that he'd won the captain's regard. Silver didn't dare call it _affection_ , although there was a certain kind of care to the way Flint had held him as he came back to himself after the caning and the intense fuck that followed. He also didn't think of it as _luck_ , this place the two of them had arrived in. It took effort on both their parts to meet in the middle. Attributing that to some blind universal force rankled his pride.

So he couldn't blame bad luck when the ship fell into the hands of Vane and his men, just as he couldn't shake the certainty that they must win it back before Flint returned. This would be the third time he had risked his life for Flint's plans - the first, of course, when he fired that cannon from the _Walrus_ , and the second when they had taken this very ship.

One hand over the other, he crawled out along the bowsprit. It creaked under his weight, and it would only be more unstable when the line was severed, but Silver kept his movements slow and easy. The knife he carried was sharp, but as he set it to the rope, he found the work to be slower going than he estimated. The forestay was half as thick as his wrist, and he had to balance precariously on the bowsprit as he sawed at the line.

"Hurry up," Vincent hissed. 

Silver bit his tongue to keep from answering. Though it was likely nobody would think to look out across the bow until the forestay came free, he didn't want to risk making any noise and attracting attention. He wished he had someone else at his back. Vincent was an amoral bastard, willing to betray anyone and anything. Silver was more opportunistic than the next man, but he drew the line at needless murder.

The line groaned, and a popping sound came from the bowsprit. Silver was more than halfway through it, and he redoubled his efforts. With a loud snap, the forestay gave. The bowsprit swayed alarmingly underneath him. He shimmied backward as quickly as he could and jerked in shock when Vincent grabbed the back of his shirt to haul him in. As soon as his feet were planted solidly on the deck, he knocked the man's hand away and stepped back, swiftly putting distance between them.

Shouting came from the deck above them, and Silver crept to the stair to the forecastle, trying catch what they were saying.

"-the fuck do you mean you lost it?" That was Vane's deep, threatening growl.

The next voice was fainter, but Silver thought he caught something about a sabotage.

"Can we sail without it?" Vane asked. It was perhaps more menacing than the first question has been. Silver would hate to be the man who answered, the one who told him it would risk losing the mast.

A satisfied smirk curled over Silver's face when he heard the order to drop anchor. If Vane had tried to sail without the forestay, not only was he certain the crew would be put to the sword, but the ship risked foundering as well. It had been a reckless move to be certain, exposing their hidden position, but so far it seemed to be a success.

"They're coming for us," Vincent said. "I hope you have a plan."

Silver made a sharp gesture at the man, still trying to listen.

"-don't want to divert men away from the prisoners," Vane said, and there were footsteps crossing the deck above the forecastle to the door.

"I think he's coming alone," Silver said, voice low. "If we catch him by surprise, we can force him to surrender the ship."

"Catch him by _surprise? Charles Vane?_ "

Silver resisted the urge to huff. Vincent was not exactly the kind of partner he would have wished for himself. For a moment, this felt all too much like taking the warship in the first place, just him and Flint. He wished it were Flint at his back now. "It's our best chance," he said. "If you prefer, you can do the surprising and I'll play bait."

"I do prefer," Vincent said.

"Come on then," Silver said, descending the stairs to the hold as quickly as quiet would allow. They made their way astern, weaving around bundles of spare canvas, heavy coils of rope, barrels of stores, and boxes of powder. He stopped and backtracked, evaluating a likely spot behind the ballast. Footfalls sounded on the deck toward the bow. "All right, here."

"Where do you want-"

"Stand out of sight and shut it," Silver hissed, settling down on a crate. "He's coming."

It unsettled him to put his back to the direction he was certain the danger was coming from, but for this to work, Vane must believe him to be caught off guard. The footsteps descended the stair to the hold, and then quieted, as if Vane was making an effort to approach undetected. Silver's back locked up in a solid line of tension, the hair prickling on his neck.

The footfalls stopped. Silver's fingers were locked tight on his knees, his breathing rapid.

"Hello," Vane rasped, and his boots fell faster on the deck.

Silver twisted around to look over his shoulder. Blood was spattered on the cuffs and collar of Vane's shirt, soaking its front. His face was smudged with charcoal - he had presumably darkened it along with the rest of his men to blend in with the water as he approached the ship. Through sheer effort of will, he kept his eyes locked on Vane and didn't flick them to the man slowly moving at his back. Aggression flashed across Vane's face, and he moved - faster than Silver expected, but Vincent was ready for him, hooking an arm around the captain and pressing a blade to his throat.

"Hello," Silver said, rising slowly from his seat. He resisted the urge to grin. It sent a jolt of satisfaction through him when a good plan came together, but he had no illusions - he had provoked a dangerous man, here.

Vane's sword clattered to the deck. There was a curl to his lip and a tight set to his jaw, one that made Silver keep his distance. He took one step closer, remaining out of reach, a wary eye on the way Vane glared murder at him.

"So," he said. "What do you suppose happens next?"

Vane only watched him silently, his hands by his sides. Silver would have thought he had no concern at all for the man at his back and the knife at his throat, if it weren't for the way Vane's head was canted to keep the blade from biting in to his neck.

"Pirate vessel!"

The words were faint, coming from outside the hull. Silver couldn't help the way his eyes flicked to the deckhead - luckily, Vane had been seized by the same temptation.

"What follows is a message from the Lord Governor of the Carolina Colony: 'I trusted in the good faith of your arrival, and I accepted Captain Flint as my guest in the same spirit - but now I regret to inform you that he has violated that trust in a most deceitful manner.'"

A feeling like being doused in a cold wave swept over Silver. He knew his expression had faltered, but he couldn't help it, no more than he could help his confused, barely whispered, " _What?_ " Miranda and Flint had put everything on this plan - they wouldn't do anything to risk it.

"'Therefore, I have placed him under arrest.'"

Now Silver's pulse tripped, and sweat broke out on his palms. The rest of the words buzzed in his ears - a trial, a piece of theater for the good, law-abiding citizens of the colonies. They would trot Flint out to the gallows and make a spectacle of him, make him into something they could hate and destroy.

It didn't matter if they won the ship, not if Flint was hanged on the shore. They had to get him back somehow. Silver's mind started to spin out half-formed threads of plans, his brow furrowed, fingernails digging into his palms.

Sudden movement startled him. Vane grabbed Vincent's knife arm and drove his elbow into Vincent's ribs. Vincent grunted, doubling over, and Vane threw his head back, their skulls meeting with a painful crack. Vincent collapsed, his eyes rolling back in his head. His reaction time slowed by the ache of dread buried behind his breastbone, Silver groped for his own weapon.

Vane surged forward, moving like a striking snake, the knife against Silver's throat before he could blink. Silver let out a small noise of surprise, his heart rabbiting in his chest, breath coming in short, sharp pants. Vane loomed over him, and Silver froze in place. Vane had several inches and several pounds of muscle on him. In close quarters, he didn't have a prayer.

"Now," Vane growled. "Let me tell you what happens next."

Silver's throat went dry and his tongue seemed to go leaden in his mouth. He didn't dare move. His eyes flicked to the still form of Vincent, crumpled on the deck behind him, and then back to Vane.

"I'm going to kill you, and then I'm going to take your ship and sail out of here." Vane took a step closer, forcing Silver to step back or lay his throat open on the knife.

"Wait- wait!" Silver croaked, forcing the words out through the choking fear. "You can't just leave him there to die."

"Watch me," Vane said. The muscles in his arm bunched, like he was preparing to draw the knife across Silver's throat.

"No, please!" The plea felt sour on his tongue, and it stuck in the back of his throat, but it was beg for his life or die - and out of those two options, he was happy to beg. "You don't - you don't want to kill me. And you don't want to leave Flint to go to the gallows."

"Flint never belonged in this life," Vane said. His voice always reminded Silver of the growl of an animal, low and menacing and predatory. "He wanted to _civilize_ us, make us dance to the tune of the crown. Let him swing for it."

"And what of Nassau?" Silver asked. He wet his lips, skin prickling, nerves screaming at him to _run_. "What of Miss Guthrie, and all she has worked for? If they kill Flint, they will slay the monster - if they do that, they'll no longer fear its lair."

Vane tilted his head, a spark of interest and near-humor glittering in his eye. It reminded Silver of a cat toying with its prey. "Here I thought Billy was the only man on this ship loyal to his captain," he said. The knife tilted, until less of the edge and more of the flat pressed against Silver's throat. "Anyone else would be begging for his own life."

"I can, if you'd like," Silver said faintly. His breath still came too rapidly, and he still felt dizzy with the urge to get away, but he was beginning to see how he might turn this to his advantage, or at least walk away from it alive. A knife at his throat was a little difficult to argue against, but that interest - that was something he could work with.

Silver had done this before, of course - not with a knife to his throat, but sex was as useful as a charming smile when the situation called for it. Vane was attractive enough - broad shoulders, that lean face with its high cheekbones, the bulk of his arms. Silver tried to calm his breaths, willing the stiffness from his limbs. He affected a more loosened stance, dropped his eyes half-shut, put a little bit of an arch in his back.

Vane's eyebrows lifted. "I thought you were ship's cook, not ship's whore."

"I'm not a whore," Silver snapped, before he could help himself.

The amusement was winning out over the viciousness in Vane's expression. He stepped closer, driving Silver bit by bit until his back fetched up against the mizzenmast where it passed belowdecks. Vane wedged one of his legs between Silver's and leaned. He was hard against Silver's thigh - most likely from the fighting, the danger and the rush of taking the ship. "Not a whore for the crew, then," Vane said. "What about for your captain? Is that why you're so eager to get him back?"

The knife was still at Silver's throat - his throat bobbed around it in a swallow as Vane shoved him further against the wood of the mast. He curled his hands around it, shifted and rolled his body against Vane's, his tongue wetting his lips again. "I could make it worth your time not to cut my throat," he said.

Vane's eyes traveled over the curve of his throat, down the planes of his chest. "You think you're that good of a fuck?"

"I think if you let me get on my knees, I'll show you," Silver said, and forced one of his most winsome smiles onto trembling lips.

Vane traced the dull side of his blade over the curve of Silver's windpipe, skating the point up to rest under the hollow of his ear. "Don't try anything stupid," he said, a hot rumble against Silver's skin.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Silver didn't tilt his head away from the blade, but held himself motionless until Vane finally lifted it away. Silver's chest heaved with a slow sigh of relief. Then Vane pulled away from him, leaving just enough room, and flicked his eyes down to the deck. It was a command, albeit a silent one, and Silver had already resolved to give the man what he wanted if it meant he could live through the night. Still, he found he hated the idea of taking any orders from Vane - that privilege belonged to his captain.

If he wanted to do anything about Flint, he had to survive Vane first. He slid down to his knees, the boards of the deck hard and unforgiving, the mast scraping at his back even through his coat. Vane flipped the knife so that the flat of it rested along his forearm - still ready to strike, but sheathing his claws for now. His other hand went to his trousers, tugging at the lacing until he had enough room to draw out his cock.

Silver swallowed, trying to call up saliva, mouth gone suddenly dry again. Vane was _endowed_. Silver was momentarily daunted by the size of him - girth and length both.

Vane's free hand gathered his hair and pulled it back sharply. "Well?" he asked, and when Silver looked up the hard line of his body, that glitter of interest was back, along with a smirk that would have infuriated Silver under other circumstances. "Get your mouth on my cock and we'll see what you're worth."

It dug at Silver's pride. He kept his hands down by his sides, let his jaw fall open and mouthed at the head of Vane's cock, like a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Vane tasted musky and bitter, lingering on Silver's tongue. Silver took him in, wrapping his lips around the heavy girth. His jaw was stretched wide, and he knew it would start aching before long, but he sucked Vane down until he was swallowing around the head of his cock.

Vane's hand tightened in his hair, and the man shuffled forward, pinning Silver's head against the mast with his grip. He pressed with his hips, feeding more of his cock into Silver's mouth, and Silver struggled to swallow. 

It was almost too much for him to take, stretching his throat wide and making him struggle for breath. A little choking cough escaped him - his eyes watered, and a simmering resentment began to fester behind his ribcage. With difficulty, he swallowed around the length in his mouth, pressing his tongue to the thick, pulsing vein on the underside.

That won him a short grunt from Vane, and Silver sucked harder, determined to undo him like this before he got any other notions in his head. Vane, though, was not content to let Silver work at his own pace. The captain's hips rolled again, drawing his cock back and pressing it deeper, fucking down Silver's throat in long, relentless strokes.

Silver's nails dug into his palms and he let his mouth go slack, his eyes falling closed, concentrating on his breathing and on swallowing when Vane pressed in deep. He wasn't in a position to protest, not like with Flint, who hadn't tried to do this to him once after the first time.

"Not bad," Vane said. His voice was still gravelly and mocking, like Silver wasn't affecting him at all. "Are you as good of a fuck as you are at sucking cock?"

Silver made a garbled noise around the cock in his mouth, something Vane would likely interpret as assent. Silver's pulse set to pounding again - it was enough for him to get down on his knees, wasn't it? He wanted it to be enough. If Vane wanted to get his cock in Silver's arse, he would see the bruises that still littered his skin - that notion fueled the resentment in Silver's chest to a roar of objection.

Vane withdrew from Silver's mouth, a strand of saliva stringing between his cock and Silver's lips. Silver flicked his tongue and it snapped, landing wetly on his chin.

"Lose the coat," Vane growled, his hand still fisted in Silver's hair. Silver tried not to glare up at him as he moved to comply, shrugging his arms out of the coat. His vision was blurred, moisture collecting in his lashes. His throat was sore and his lips felt swollen.

Vane pulled on his hair and Silver scrambled to get his feet underneath him, legs shaky. "What are you-"

"Turn around. Hands on the mast." Vane twisted the hair he had clutched in his fist and Silver winced. This was a far cry from the anchoring weight of Flint's hand on his nape, rougher even than the first time they'd fucked. Silver turned, bracing himself on the mast as he'd been ordered. At least now he didn't have to hide his expression. He dug his nails into the wood of the mast, fury tightening the corners of his mouth. He'd never felt this strongly about playing this particular card, but now he almost blew the whole thing when Vane fumbled his trousers open one-handed and yanked them down.

"Well now, look at that," Vane said. Silver stiffened, and the knife was back at his throat, cold steel kissing at his neck in a parody of lover's affection. "Not Billy's handiwork, I'd wager." One of Vane's big hands grabbed the cheek of Silver's arse, squeezing and digging his fingers into the bruises left by the cane. "These are a cabin boy's marks."

Silver made a sound - an indignant noise that welled up from the resentment boiling over in his chest. It tasted acrid on the back of his tongue, the way Vane handled him with easy entitlement. Those marks were between Silver and Flint. Letting Vane see them felt wrong.

"Does Flint do this before he fucks you? And I bet you just take it, don't you - you cry pretty enough already. It must be a treat to watch you brought low, wipe that smirk off your face." Vane pressed his body against Silver's back, his cock grinding at the cleft of Silver's arse.

Silver bit his tongue until he thought it might bleed, knuckles whitening as he gripped the mast. Vane was an animal - feral, cruel the way nature was cruel, out to get his without regard to the path of destruction he left in his wake. "If you're going to fuck me, at least let me slick up." His voice sounded raw, just like his throat felt.

"I thought you were making it worth my time," Vane said. His mouth was right against Silver's ear, that growling voice a deep rumble against his back. "What if I want to hear you scream while I fuck you - make your whole crew listen? Ruin you for your captain and take the last of what's his away from him?"

Silver felt a cold chill that had nothing to do with the point of steel nudging against the soft place under his chin. "Please," he said, ashamed of the way his voice cracked - more ashamed of the bald fear that ran through him at the suggestion that Flint wouldn't want him after this.

Vane stilled against his back. Silver tried once again to calm his breathing and the racing of his heart. It was wolves, wasn't it, that could smell fear? Vane's teeth scraped against the pulse of his neck, bit at the hinge of Silver's jaw. Silver shivered, an involuntary reaction, and felt Vane's lips curve against his skin. "Is that how it is?" His hand wrapped around Silver's cock, callused and broad. Silver was only half-hard, but the blunt scrape of Vane's fingernails over his foreskin had him sucking his lip between his teeth, biting down to hold back the whine it wrung from him, hips stuttering in Vane's grasp. "Does he hold you close like a lover?"

"Just fuck me." Silver pushed back against the thick line of Vane's cock. "This about what you want."

"What if what I want is to know how much you'd give to see me go after Flint and get him out of this?" Vane ground against him, his hand moving lazily on Silver's cock, stroking him to fullness.

Silver's throat locked up tight, and he rested his forehead against the mast with a thump, forgetting about the kiss of the knife against his skin. Vane shifted it with him, keeping the edge from cutting, responding to his movements like he saw them coming before Silver made them. The idea burrowed under his skin - was he truly that transparent? Was he slipping in general, or was it just Flint that did this to him? Either possibility was grating, though he was forced to admit the latter was less so.

"Is that what you want?" Silver asked, dodging the question once again. Part of him didn't want to give Vane the satisfaction, and the other part sensed that Flint wouldn't want something so personal in the hands of the enemy.

Flint probably wouldn't want _him_ in the hands of the enemy either.

Vane's hand left his cock. The knife pricked under his chin and Silver froze, holding perfectly still as Vane slid down the length of his body to rummage through his pockets. When he stood again, he grabbed one of Silver's hands, prying it away from the mast. "If you want it, do it yourself," he said, pressing the bottle of oil Silver had taken to carrying into his palm.

Silver bit back a reply and fumbled with the bottle, upending it over his palm. It clattered to the boards of the deck, empty and rolling away into the darkness. Silver shifted as much as Vane would let him - the angle was awkward, and his wrist started to twinge even before he managed to press his fingers inside. It was too quick, and he hissed between his teeth, but he got the sense that Vane wouldn't be patient with him if he tried to be thorough.

The penetration wasn't enough, just teasing at the furled ring of his entrance. Vane's ministrations had coaxed him into hardness, and now his blood was running hot under his skin. When Silver could slip three fingers into himself, still no deeper than the first knuckle but enough that the twinge was gone, he dared to reach back and stroke his slick hand over Vane's cock, from its tip all the way down to the root. He squeezed tight enough that the man grunted and the muscles of his stomach rippled under Silver's knuckles.

Vane grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away, putting it back on the mast. Silver tilted his head back, trying to pull away from the knife even as Vane hitched his hips forward. "If you wouldn't mind," Silver said, half-strangled, knuckles whitening on the wood. "I'm hardly going anywhere."

All motion stopped - the head of Vane's cock pressed against him, threatening to push inside. Slowly, as if he was demonstrating to Silver that he was making a decision on his own and not complying with a request, Vane took the knife away from his throat. Silver didn't hear it clatter to the deck, and presumed that Vane still had it on him somewhere - and then that thought scattered from his mind when Vane pushed.

Silver couldn't hold back the wavering groan that broke from him, and the hand that had so recently held a blade to his throat clapped over his mouth. Vane pressed in relentlessly until his balls were snug against Silver's thighs, the weight of him pushing Silver into the mast. "Keep quiet," he growled, and then began to fuck in and out of Silver in hard, vicious thrusts.

Silver locked his teeth together, pressing his tongue against the back of them, trying to stifle the noises huffing from his chest every time Vane bottomed out. Vane's breathing was heavy across his ear, and after the first few thrusts, he pulled his hand from Silver's mouth. He wrapped his fingers around Silver's hips, pulling, and Silver grunted in surprise as he was hauled backward just enough so that Vane could bend him over with his hands still braced on the mast.

With how tight Vane was holding him, fingers digging into his hipbones, he was sure to leave bruises. That knowledge set the tangle of rancor and indignity to boil again behind his ribs - he didn't want Flint seeing that, the evidence of Vane written on his body in vivid purple smudges. Vane's cock felt like it might split him open, spearing straight into the most sensitive parts of his flesh on every stroke. It was too much to bear, and Silver was going to come - it would give Vane a satisfaction that he wanted nothing more than to deny, but it was a struggle at this point simply to keep his feet. His knees were watery, the muscles in his arms shaking where he was braced against the mast.

Vane's hands moved, one sliding up his chest to brace him and the other falling to Silver's cock again, pulling at him with a tight, rough fist. "I can see why the captain keeps you around," he said. "You look much better like this."

The caustic response on the tip of Silver's tongue turned into a hissed grunt as Vane's hips crashed against his arse, his cock punching the breath from him. Vane's hand dropped to Silver's balls, cupping them in his palm before he returned to the shaft of Silver's cock, pulling rapid and hard until Silver's muscles locked up and he came, shooting slick over Vane's fist, tremors going through his thighs.

Vane only fucked him harder, their skin slapping together and the hard length of Vane's cock dragging in and out of him. Silver fell against the mast, braced on his shoulder, and stuffed his knuckles in his mouth to stifle the high, thin sounds issuing from his throat. His eyes were screwed shut, white flashing behind their lids. His cock, softening and too sensitive, twitched feebly when Vane squeezed it.

" _Fuck_ you," Silver gasped, garbled around the fingers in his mouth. His muscles were twitching under his skin in the aftermath of his orgasm, and he couldn't keep himself from trying to writhe away from Vane. A mocking, rough laugh came from the man behind him, and Vane finally pressed in deep. Silver was so sensitive that he could feel every pulse of Vane's cock as he spilled into Silver's body, grinding in hard enough to push the breath from Silver's lungs.

When Vane withdrew, he left a sharp sting and an ache in his wake. Silver leaned against the mast, feeling slimy between his thighs and hollowed out behind his ribs. He shakily pushed himself upright.

The scrape of a sword on the deck made his heart race and he spun around, back against the mast, trousers still tangled around his ankles. Vane tossed him a rag. "Clean yourself up."

Silver wiped the mess from his thighs and the crease of his arse, throwing the rag away into the dark of the hold. He yanked his trousers up and pulled his coat on, running a hand over his disheveled hair.

Vane kicked Vincent's still form and the man rolled over with a groan, pushing himself up, only to freeze when Vane's sword nudged at his back. "Up," Vane growled. "You too, get in front of me."

There was a hitch in Silver's step as he moved to comply, one he hoped Vincent wouldn't notice. The smell of sex thankfully didn't linger in the hold, washed away by the scent of salt air and gunpowder. Vane prodded him forward with the sword in his back, and he walked, going with Vane's direction to the bow of the ship, up the stairs, and out the doors of the forecastle.

The crew was chained on the deck, and Silver felt all eyes turn to him as soon as he emerged. He plastered what he hoped was a blank expression on his face, but his skin felt like it was crawling with the remainder of Vane's touch, like he was covered in the evidence of what he'd done and all of them could see it.

Vane walked past him without so much as a sideways glance, crossing the deck to stare down at Billy. The bos'un had blood smeared across his jaw, though it didn't look to be his. Billy looked up at Vane with his head tilted to the side, the expression on his face so like the wariness Silver had worn in the hold that it settled something in him. Everyone knew how dangerous and unpredictable Vane was. Surely, if word did get out about what happened in the hold, they wouldn't begrudge him doing whatever he could to stay alive.

"You were right," Vane said to him.

Billy's eyebrows drew together. "Right about what?"

"They can't tell the difference between you and I."

Silver swallowed against the bile that threatened to rise in his throat. Had Vane already made up his mind to go after Flint, even before Silver had bent over for him? Had he done it only to see how far Silver would go, to score another point against Flint?

"Nassau is strongest when she's feared," Vane said, addressing the crew, now. "And if what promises to happen tomorrow actually happens - a trophy made of one of her most notorious captains - she may never be feared again."

Vane spared one glance for Silver, then turned his attentions back to his own crew. "So I suppose we do something about this. I suggest we get him the hell out of there."

Silver caught Billy's eye from across the ship, reading disbelief written all over the man's face. It was almost like Billy was asking what Silver had done to prompt this. Despite himself, Silver felt his lips pulling into a smirk. It didn't truly matter whether it was Billy's words, or his, or the fuck he'd given up in the hold that settled Vane's mind - what mattered is that they were going to get the captain. They were going to bring Flint back, and Silver would still be alive to meet him.


End file.
